The Best of All Possibles
by ersatzpenguin
Summary: This short story is an attempt to tie up the narrative loose ends that exist at the end of Life is Strange S1 E5, "Polarized." It combines elements from *both* canon endings to create a less polarizing, and more fitting conclusion.
1. Preface

This story, like many others, is the result of an attempt to fix the plot and narrative inconsistencies evident in the two canon endings to Season 1, Episode 5, of _Life is Strange_.

I think there are important lessons for Max to learn in both canon endings, so I have done my best to stay true to the spirit of the dilema Max and the player are posed with, while explicitly filling in her thoughts and feelings while she and Chloe are standing on the cliff by the lighthouse. My hope is that through fleshing this lighthouse scene out with her thoughts and feelings, the audience can understand her decision more clearly. From there, the story becomes not about "bae" versus "bay"—though Max is still forced to choose—but about Max versus her own fears and insecurity.

If you want a story where everyone lives, and nothing bad ever happens, this isn't the one for you. However, if you want a story that honors the character growth of both Max and Chloe, and that brings the various narrative elements of _Life is Strange_ to a satisfying end, this one's for you.

Oh, and: Pricefield 4 Ever.


	2. Chapter 1 - Denial

When I come to, I'm on the ground at the lighthouse. Chloe is standing nearby, looking concerned. God, she looks so worried. What have I done? What is going on?

"Max? Max, can you hear me? Please, say something."

I can hear the exhaustion and worry in her voice, but it's hard to really process what's happening. One moment, I'm walking a dark path littered with memories of me and Chloe, and the next I'm on the ridge by the lighthouse? We… We were on our way to the lighthouse before the… the nightmare… Weren't we? It's all so mixed up right now.

"Chloe? I… I must have passed out… Sorry."

"Oh, thank God… Don't you ever do that again, okay?"

I pull myself awkwardly to my feet, my body is heavy, and doesn't seem to want to do what I tell it to. As I stand up, flashes of the nightmare come back to me.

"I swear... but that nightmare was so real… was so horrible…"

I say it out loud, not even thinking. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the lighthouse is damaged. It's missing its top. What does that mean? Am I too late? I can't… I can't think about that right now. The storm is getting closer and closer to Arcadia Bay. This is all my fault.

"This is my storm. I caused this… I caused all of this. I changed fate and destiny so much that… I actually did alter the course of everything."

As I talk, I'm looking back and forth at Chloe while gesturing out at the bay. She needs to understand. She needs to see that I've failed her and the town.

"...And all I really created was just death and destruction!"

Chloe puts her arm on my shoulder. She's looking at me intently, trying to be supportive.

"Fuck all that, okay? You were given a power. You didn't ask for it... and you saved me..."

I know she's trying to help, but it's hard to think with everything that's happening. I keep glancing at the bay. I'm so afraid. I'm so afraid that this is all my fault. I screwed up. I always screw up. Still, I try to pay attention as she continues.

"Which had to happen, all of this did… except for what happened to Rachel. But without your power, we wouldn't have found her!"

I glance down. She's right about that, isn't she? Without my power, we never would have found out what Mr. Jefferson and Nathan were up to. Maybe Chloe's right? Maybe this isn't my fault?

"Okay, so you're not the goddamn time master, but you're Maxine Caulfield… and you're amazing."

Chloe grabs me by both shoulders, as if to emphasize her point. I want to believe her. I want to believe that I… we… did the right thing. I want to believe that everything we've done over the past week has meant something. I want to believe it so much.


	3. Chapter 2 - Anger

I look out at the bay, torn between the fear that I caused the storm and the hope that somehow, this is just another freak weather event in a series of freak weather events that have no real meaning. Or cause. Maybe it really is climate change. When I look back at Chloe, there are tears in her eyes.

"Max, this is the only way."

Chloe hands me the photo of the butterfly on the bucket that I took right before I saw her die that first time in the Blackwell bathroom. Why? Why does she want me to have this? I thought she believed it wasn't my fault. Was she just trying to make me feel better? Does she really think I am to blame for all of this? I don't know what to say, but I have to say something.

"I feel like I took this shot a thousand years ago."

I can't look at Chloe. I feel very small, and weak. Why would she say that it's not my fault and then hand me this photo? I don't understand. I turn away from her gaze to look toward the bay and look again at the photo. I wish there were something that could tell me what to do right now. Just tell me what the right answer is. Fuck. What kind of world is this? What kind of world would give me the power to save my friend and then punish me for using it?!

Chloe comes up beside me while I'm still lost in thought.

"You could use that photo to change everything right back to when you took that picture... "

She's stating the obvious, but I suppose she had to say something given my silence. Chloe looks pained, the tears in her eyes threatening to start rolling down her face any moment. She's going to tell me that I should go back and let her die. After all, if I go back with this photo and let her die, none of this would have ever happened. If the storm really was caused by me using my power, letting her die is the only way to stop it. Chloe's still trying to get it out.

"All that would take is for me to… to…"

She trails off, unable to finish her thought. She puts her face in her hands and cries. I can hear the anguish in her sobs—anguish that might well be my fault. Maybe she's right. But… I can't believe that. No. I can't do it. She means too much to me.

"Fuck that! No... no way! You are my number one priority now. You are all that matters to me."

I'm looking directly at her as I say this, but her face is still hidden behind her hands. I can't make eye contact. I need her to understand. I'm not sure there's a point in living without her.

After another moment, her hands fall away from her face.

"I know. You proved that over and over again… even though I don't deserve it. I'm so selfish… not like my mom… Look what she had to give up and live through… and she did."

She's facing out at the bay again. She won't make eye contact.

"She deserves so much more than to be killed by a storm in a fucking diner."

Chloe's looking at me again as she says this last part, gesturing out across the bay as if to indicate the Two Whales Diner where Joyce is probably stuck, waiting for the tornado to hit. Assuming, that is, things are the same as they were when I escaped from Mr. Jefferson. Chloe continues, the pain clear and sharp in her voice.

"Even my step… father deserves her alive. There's so many people in Arcadia Bay who should live... way more than me…"

She's looking back out at the bay now. I can see the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. It seems like there's a part of her that believes she is to blame for all of this—all because she was selfish and wanted to see Rachel again. As distressed as her words make me, I'm so proud of her. I don't know that I'd be willing to sacrifice myself if I was in her place. I'd like to think so. Probably not before all this happened, but maybe now. Still… letting her sacrifice herself... I… I can't even think of that. It's not an option.

"Don't say that… I won't trade you."

"You're not trading me. Maybe you've just been delaying my real destiny… Look at how many times I've almost died or actually died around you."

I look at her, the tears building in my eyes. I've done so much to save her. There were so many times she could have been hurt or worse. Maybe… maybe she's right. No. No. That's not right. I try not to let her words get to me.

"Look at what's happened in Arcadia Bay ever since you first saved me."

I turn away. I can't look at her. She has a point. So many horrible things have happened over the past week. But that… that can't be because I saved her. It's not fair! Why can't everything be like it ought to be? Why can't we get justice for Rachel and have everyone live happily ever after? Chloe continues, resignation in her voice.

"I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate… our fate…"

I refuse to make eye contact, so she turns me around to look me in the eye. It's all too much. I… I can't.

"Chloe."

"Max, you finally came back to me this week and… you did nothing but show me your love and friendship. You made me smile and laugh, like I haven't done in years."

Now that she has me, I can't look away. She clearly means it. All of it. Why is she saying this?

"Wherever I end up after this… in whatever reality… all those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours. No matter what you choose, I know you'll make the right decision."

God, she sounds so resigned—almost like she wants to die. This isn't happening. This can't be happening. She seems like she's pulled a complete one-eighty. First she's telling me it's not my fault—that the chaos theory stuff is bullshit—and now she wants to sacrifice herself to fix my mistake? I look up at the sky in desperation.

This can't be happening. This can't be my decision to make. What if she's wrong? What if I'm wrong? What if I fuck it up even worse? But then... what if I don't go back and I end up letting people in Arcadia Bay die just so I can have Chloe? It's impossible to choose. It's not a fair choice. I turn back to her.

"Chloe… I can't make this choice."

She grabs me by the shoulder again, like she's trying to be supportive and reassuring, but all she's doing is tearing me apart. There's a storm in the bay, a storm in my mind…and a storm... in my heart.

"No, Max… You're the only one who can."

I stare into her eyes, searching for some sort of definitive sign of what she wants me to do. I need some sort of signal! Do I believe what she said about none of this being my fault, or do I believe what she said about sacri… sacrificing herself?

I know that she wants me to feel like it's okay if I go back to let her die. I know she wishes we could save her mom and everybody else. I know that she wants me to let her go if I think that I need to go back... Of course, this entire time she's been trying to tell me that she's fine with it, there has been so much pain in her voice. So much desperation. She doesn't want to die. Fuck, I don't want her to die.

But, I don't want people in the town to die either. I saw what happened in Arcadia Bay back in the timeline where Mr. Jefferson killed Chloe and brought me to the Dark Room. The town did not look good. I mean, I guess it's possible that some people survive. Hell, maybe even Joyce and everyone else in the Two Whales Diner will find a way to make it through the storm—maybe that explosion will never happen in this reality. But I don't know that. Can I risk it?

God, I'm so fucking afraid of making the wrong decision. How can I possibly live with the consequences of either decision? I wish someone else could make the decision for me. Imagining life without Chloe is like imagining my own living hell, but life with the deaths of so many people on my hands seems unbearable too. Chloe's voice breaks me out of my contemplation.

"Max… It's time…"

Everything freezes. All I can think about is whether I should sacrifice Chloe or sacrifice Arcadia Bay. I'm not even sure how much time passes while I weigh my options. A few seconds, an hour? For a good while all I can do is scream internally, angry at a world that would force me to choose between my best friend—maybe even the love of my life—and saving the town I grew up in from a devastating storm. There has to be another way.


	4. Chapter 3 - Bargaining

I don't know if it's out of exhaustion or because I come to an actual decision, but finally something gives. I know what I have to do. At the end of the day, this is all my fault. Chloe knows it, and I know it. Everyone would be better off if I had never done anything at all—everyone except… except for Chloe. Except for m… except for me. It's a hard pill to swallow given everything that's happened, but I am, after all, just some girl. Some stupid girl who fucked it all up. Someone else should have been given my power. Maybe they could have made it work. I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough.

"Chloe… I'm so, so sorry… I… I don't want to do this."

She knows where this is going already. I can't tell if she anticipated my decision, or is just trying to make me feel better about it. She hugs me in what I imagine is an attempt to reassure me that I'm making the right choice. It's a hug that only someone who believes they don't deserve to live can possibly give. It's a hug that only someone who believes they don't deserve to be happy can possibly receive. She holds me, for a moment, as she speaks.

"I know, Max. But we have to. We have to save everybody, okay?"

She releases me, and backs away.

"And you'll make those fuckers pay for what they did to Rachel."

When she speaks about Rachel, there is rage in her voice. It's that rage that brought us here, I guess. But just as quickly as it pops up, the pain of the moment replaces it.

"Being together this week… it was the best farewell gift I could have hoped for. You're my hero, Max."

I shake my head. A gift? It was a gift to lead her on and give her hope, only to fail anyway? It's too much. I… I can't just let her sacrifice herself without showing her how much I love her. She needs to know how much I wish we could be together forever.

I reach out and put my hands on either side of Chloe's head, pulling her in for a kiss. The kiss is full of love, grief, and remorse.

We stand there, the storm howling in the bay, for what seems like an eternity until we part and time snaps back into place. It was nothing more than a moment, after all. Our last moment. My last moment with the woman I… the woman I love. She's the first to break the silence.

"I'll always love you… Now get out of here, please. Do it before I freak."

She's trying to keep a brave face for me. She knows that I will carry this moment with me for the rest of my life. She doesn't want me to feel bad. I will, though. This is my fault, after all. I'm doomed to carry this with me as a reminder of my mistake.

"And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me…"

"Never."

I look away before I can change my mind. I know that if I look back up at her I'll never be able to do what I need to do. Instead, I focus on the picture. It's time to undo my mistake.

Everything shifts around me. The wind and rain from the cliff by the lighthouse are replaced by the cool, damp air of the Blackwell girls toilets. My old camera, the one from before mine broke for the second time and Chloe gave me her dad's, whirs and ejects a photo of a blue butterfly resting on the edge of a bucket. I pull the photo free of the camera, fully intending to tear it up, but my hands aren't able to grip it properly. Instead, I let it fall down to the floor.

When it hits the tile, I go cold. I... I can't bear to watch this happen again.

I crumple down onto the floor by the bucket, tears streaming down my face, trying not to make any noise. If I make any noise I might fuck it all up again. There's no way I can rewind and watch her die yet again if I fuck up. I can't. If I'm noticed and have to rewind, I'll end up saving her.

So, I just... I just need to be quiet and make it through this one last time. Then, never again—at least not for real. I'm sure I'll relive it in my nightmares and dark moments for years to come. Maybe… maybe even the rest of my life. The thought only serves to make the tears come faster. Still, I'm rooted to the ground.

On cue, the door opens and Nathan comes into the bathroom, talking to himself.

The stress of knowing what is about to happen is getting to be too much when I hear Chloe barge into the bathroom and the world around me starts to fade. I can barely hear what happens next as my own pain over the loss of Chloe paralyzes and envelops me. After a couple more seconds, my brain fully shuts down to protect me. Thank God. I couldn't bear to even listen to this again.


	5. Chapter 4 - Depression

When I come to, I'm back on the cliff by the lighthouse, alone. Storm winds blow all around me, and my face is wet. From the rain? Or am I crying? Both? The tornado is still out in the bay, about to hit the town. No… This can't be. This can't be true. I start screaming into the wind without even thinking.

"I… I don't understand! What kind of sick fucking joke is this? I just sat by while my friend died again, and for what? For nothing? What do you want from me, universe? Why won't you just leave me alone? Can't I ever do anything right? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You took Chloe from me, and now you want to take the town too? Her death didn't make any fucking difference? What do you want from me? Answer me! Is this just my own private hell?"

There is no answer. I collapse onto my knees, sobbing. Standing here with Chloe before, I thought I had failed. But now? This is failure. At least when I saved Chloe we made it up here together. Failure is letting Chloe die for no reason. So now I'm just fucking consigned to watch this storm destroy Arcadia Bay alone. It's not fair. None of this is fair. I can't have gone through everything I've gone through this week for nothing. It has to mean something. It has to. The alternative… the alternative is just perpetual misery.

The wind buffets my body as I cry into my hands, unable to watch what is happening in the bay. At one point, after a minute or so, a powerful gust hits me so hard that it lifts my bag from my back briefly before knocking it back into me. Wait, my bag? My bag!

I frantically pull my bag around to my front, desperate to see if my journal is inside, and if I somehow saved the butterfly photo off the floor of the bathroom.

As the wind pulls at the edges of the journal, I open it, and turn the pages to my entry from Monday.

 _Chloe died today in the bathroom at Blackwell. She was shot._

 _The police think I must have watched it happen, but I can't remember anything. They say that's because I was in shock. They say that there was nothing I could have done. Apparently, Mr. Madsen found me crying, hiding in the back, when he came to investigate the gunshot. I'm not surprised. I couldn't even turn in my photo to Mr. Jefferson because I was so afraid of what would happen._

 _The kid who shot Chloe, Nathan, goes to school with me. They have him down at the police station right now._

 _When they realized Chloe was a friend of mine, they tried to get me to talk to a grief counselor. I didn't even know what to say to her. What do you say when you've just watched your best friend die in front of you and you can't even remember it because you were too fucking pathetic to do anything about it? I sure as hell didn't know, so I didn't say anything._

 _I saw Chloe's body as they loaded it in the ambulance outside of Blackwell. She'd changed so much. She had beautiful blue hair._

 _It snowed at sunset tonight. No clouds, no nothing. It's like the bay was mourning her too._

 _I wish I'd had the chance to see her again. I mean, I did, but I didn't take it. I was too afraid of what she'd say to me after I abandoned her. If only I had seen her. Maybe this could have been avoided._

 _I left her, and then I left her to die._

Rain pelts the journal as I stare at the entry. Just as I finish reading it, blood drips from my nose down onto the page. It lands next to the period at the end of the last sentence, as if to emphasize the finality of it all. I went back and let her die, but it was all for nothing. I was so afraid I'd fucked everything up, and now I have.

I frantically turn the pages, looking for the butterfly photo, but I can't find it. I see pages for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, but there's barely any text on them. Thursday's entry is basically just two sketches—one of a coffin with a butterfly on it, the other of a beached whale. There's a note below the whale sketch

 _The whales have it figured out. The world is fucked. There's no point in living_.

Friday's entry—today's entry—is equally sparse. No drawing, no pictures, just two sentences.

 _I think I'll do it up at the lighthouse. The weather forecast says there's a storm coming, and no one will miss the pathetic girl who let her friend die._

Fuck. The butterfly photo probably ended up in the trash, or in some crime scene evidence bag or something out of those CSI shows. Without that photo, I don't have a way of going back. I'm stuck in a world without Chloe, and the storm is still coming. And apparently, in this timeline, I decide to throw myself off the cliff by the lighthouse during the storm. Sounds about right. This is hell. I know it. God damnit, why am I so fucking pathetic and weak?!

I throw the journal down in frustration. It bounces once on its spine before it hits a rock a few feet away and flops open to the last page. Sitting there, tucked between the cover and the last page of the journal, is a photo. It's lying face down, so I can't tell what the picture is of, but my heart races when I realize that I don't remember ever tucking a photo in the back of the journal. From where I'm sitting, I can see that there's writing on the back of the photo, but I can't read it. I don't usually write on my photos. That's strange.

I do my best to temper my excitement, standing up and moving slowly over to the journal while the wind whips around me. I'm so afraid that I'll get my hopes up for nothing—that the photo will be of something that won't help me, or worse yet, a picture of something from after Chloe's death. Would I have taken a photo at the morgue? The thought turns my stomach. It's clear from my journal entries that nothing good happened after Chloe died. If the photo is from any time after that, there is no way I can use it.

I'm no more than two feet away when the wind catches the edge of the photo and lifts it, tumbling haphazardly, toward the edge of the cliff. I move quickly as the wind pulls it out to the edge of the cliff. I reach out, but I'm still too far away to get it when it falls over the edge. My heart sinks until suddenly an updraft shoots the photo, end over end, up into the air.

I lunge forward and reach out instinctively.

When I open my eyes, the photo is flapping, awkwardly grasped between my index and middle finger as I lean out over the edge of the cliff. Holy fuck, my momentum nearly carried me over the edge. That really would have been game over. But would that really have been so bad? My last entry had it right. Life without Chloe isn't worth living. Maybe… Maybe that's the way out of this mess if this photo turns out to be useless. I doubt it would hurt. Just a bit of wind and then boom, peace.

I cut off that chain of thought long enough to back away from the edge before another gust comes along and makes the choice for me. I pull the photo closer to my body and adjust my grip on it. With my grip adjusted, I can clearly see the writing on back of the photo. The handwriting isn't mine. It flows in small, almost illegible loops and swoops—it reminds me of the way servers write up those handwritten checks you sometimes get at small restaurants and diners. Wait, diners?

 _Max,_

 _They found this at the crime scene. They thought it might have been Chloe's, but then I remembered how much you loved taking photos all those years ago. I hope it's yours. Also, please forgive David if he's a bit rough around the edges when he gives this to you. The last few days have been really hard for us._

 _Love,_

 _Joyce_

Hope springs fucking eternal. After reading the note on the back, I quickly turn it over to confirm I have what I think I have. A flash of blue, and a brief look confirms that I do.

I have the butterfly photo.

Tears, this time of joy, flow down my face. This time there's no debating, no thinking. I focus on the picture one last time. I know what I have to do. There's no good ending to this, but there is one where Chloe and I are together—the one I left out of fear.


	6. Chapter 5 - Acceptance

"Max! Max! What the hell are you doing? You've been standing there for what seems like ages. I said to go before I freak!"

It's her. That's her voice, calling out from somewhere behind me. Tears stream down my face as I stare out at the bay and the storm careening toward the town. Are these the old tears of fear and guilt, or the new ones of joy? It doesn't matter, I guess.

"Max! Seriously! I'm freaking the fuck out, Max. I… I don't want to die. Like, I really don't want to die. But, you need to save everybody. You have to go!"

"It doesn't work."

The words fall out of my mouth softly, so softly I worry that she won't be able to hear them. At the same time, the tension that was in my shoulders when I left this place the first time releases.

"What do you mean it doesn't work? Focus harder! Max, I love you, but if you don't go now, I might not be able to let you. Just go!"

I can hear her pain. I want to turn around and tell her what's happening, but I'm still in shock. Shock that I made it back, shock that she's here, shock that I have another chance that I didn't deserve. The storm continues unabated in the bay.

"No, Chloe, you don't get it. It doesn't work."

I finally manage to turn around, and she's looking at me, eyes red and tears streaming down her face. As her tears fall, they mix with the rain. It's hard to tell which is which. She's so beautiful, so… alive. I can't hide the smile that spreads across my face.

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?"

"I mean that I went back and watched you die only to end up standing here alone, watching the storm hit Arcadia Bay."

"You… you already went back?"

I close the short distance between us in no time at all, wrapping my arms around her as she stands, dumbfounded.

"Chloe, you have no idea how happy I am to see you right now."

Without thinking, I lift her off her feet, and spin around. We must look so awkward—me, a tiny little hipster girl lifting up a beautiful punk rock goddess. But right now, in this moment, I don't feel small. I don't feel meek. I don't feel afraid.

I set her down, the confusion and pain in her face from before transitioning to hope. The rain continues beating at us, but it's nothing more than a minor nuisance at this point. If it weren't for the wind in our hair, I could forget there was a storm altogether.

"You… you already went back."

God, sometimes she's like a broken record. My broken record—assuming that kiss wasn't just romantic fatalism earlier.

"Yes. I went back, and the only thing that changed is that I ended up standing here alone! Oh, Chloe, it was so horrible. I… I was so ready to just give up… I searched for the butterfly picture in my journal and nearly lost it when the wind picked it up. If it hadn't found it, I was considering throwing myself… off... I thought I had sacrificed you for nothing!"

"But… But this means…"

"All of that chaos theory stuff was bullshit! Oh god, Chloe. I can't believe I let some stupid theory get to me. In the bathroom at Blackwell on Monday, I lost you out of fear. Back then, I was afraid of being seen. I was afraid of even being noticed in class! I lost you to my fear, completely unable to move from my hiding place until it was too late. Today, I lost you again. This time, it was because I was afraid that some freak storm was somehow my fault!"

When I finish explaining, Chloe's face is full of joy.

"Oh, Max. I was so afraid! I… I felt like I was worthless, and I wanted to die. I thought I deserved it. But you… you saved me again. You're my Super Max."

Her hands reach out and grab the sides of my face. My wet hair presses into my cheeks and the sides of my head as she pulls me in for a kiss. This time it's not a farewell kiss, not at all. It's not full of the sadness, fear, and grief of our last kiss. This is a welcome home kiss. This is a, "I will never let you go" kiss. It feels so good. It feels so right.

"Wowzer."

Chloe looks down at me for a moment, smiling, before her face changes and it's clear she's worried again. I'm wondering what she's thinking about when she finally says something.

"Wait. So this means… The people in town are just… fucked?"

Shit. How do I even say this?

"I… I can't save them. I wish I could..."

"No, Max. I know. It's just… I hope my mom is okay. I hope David's okay. I mean, shit. I'd be hella excited to see his fascist ass right now, let alone my mom."

"I know. Me too… I wish we could have done more for everyone in town."

I look down, lost in thought about what might happen to everyone. The fact that I can't control everything is finally settling in. I'm just some girl who was given a chance to save her best friend—a chance that I am so amazingly thankful for. It was practically a miracle. No doubt Kate would eat all of this up, assuming she's ok. Me? I don't know what to think. Sometimes, shit just happens. Life is strange like that.

Chloe interrupts my existentialist musings.

"Max, the moment that the storm lets up, we need to get down there and look for survivors—starting at Two Whales."

"Agreed."

"And Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you dare go back in time to let me die in that bathroom again. I want to live. I want to be here, with you."

She smiles. I smile.

"I won't ever let that happen to you again."

Standing there, I realize I'm still holding the photo of the butterfly. I hold it up between us, and grab it on both sides between my thumbs and index fingers. I look up at Chloe, and smile. The photo rips easily in my fingers. When I drop it, the two halves get carried away by the wind. We watch them fly away, together, as the tornado starts tearing up the waterfront.

Chloe and I sit in silence on the bench, arms around each other, until the storm finishes and the sun comes out. Even with all the devastation, the bay is beautiful. Things don't look nearly as bad as I thought they might. I reach out and try to freeze time like I did with Kate—I just want to hold onto this moment of hope and beauty before we descend back into reality. But, it doesn't work. My power is gone.

Instead, I put my hand down to push off the bench and stand up. I don't know if fate or destiny actually exist. All I know is that Chloe exists, and that's enough. So, while I don't know what's going to happen next, I know that whatever it is, Chloe and I will tackle it together. I know I will make mistakes, but I refuse to stand aside and let my fears dictate my choices.

This world isn't perfect, and neither am I. Far from it. But, with Chloe by my side, I know this world is the best possible one.


End file.
